


Curious Misfortune

by Floral_and_Fine



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floral_and_Fine/pseuds/Floral_and_Fine
Summary: During the holiday season, the reader finds herself in a small town after she breaks up with her boyfriend.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Curious Misfortune

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this is going, but I never do. The whole inspiration for me starting this fic is the idea of Sandor in flannel.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, as you passed another sign on the highway. None of the small town names looked familiar, and it was far too dark out for you to recognize any landmarks. 

You clutched the wheel tightly, angry, and upset over the whole situation you found yourself in. Your damn phone didn’t get any reception out here, wherever you were, and you were hungry, tired, but mostly pissed. 

In fact, you wouldn’t have been driving at all tonight on this unfamiliar highway if it hadn’t been for your now ex-boyfriend. 

You had come out all this way to spend a nice Thanksgiving with his family, but when you and him arrived, his family had been nothing but rude to you.  
They nitpicked about everything, your outfit, your job, your education, nothing was good enough for them. 

You had hoped that Jaime would’ve done something about it, stick up for you, defend you, however, he pretended not to notice. When you finally couldn’t take it any longer, and you brought it up to him, he acted like an ass and tried to convince you that you were overreacting.

God, you wanted to smack him across the face. You really were better off without him. 

You groaned as you glanced at the time, you should be somewhere warm right now, eating pumpkin pie covered with whip cream, but instead, you were...lost, most likely.

Yet to be perfectly honest with yourself, you weren’t in a rush to get back home, because being there meant you’d have to face the aftermath of your failed relationship. Who would move out? Who gets to keep what? If only it could all resolve itself on its own. 

You passed a sign, this one indicating that the next town was a mile away. You really ought to stop somewhere, get something to eat at least, that is if anything was still open, it was a holiday after all. 

Taking the exit, it led you to a small community, a simple kind of place with small homes and just the basics. As you drove down the main road, you noted that most of the businesses including small diners and restaurants were closed. 

It figured the best you could probably do now would be to get a bag of chips or something from the gas station. Just as you were about to give up your search, the blinking red light of an open sign caught your attention. The establishment was just some local bar with just a couple of beat-up old trucks parked out front.

As you got out of your car, you hoped they served food, or at least something besides peanuts, noticing that you were hungrier than you had originally thought.

Opening the door, the few patrons inside turned their heads. You could tell they weren’t used to unfamiliar faces stopping by. There were only a handful of people, a small group of guys by the pool table, a large man in a flannel shirt at the bar, and an old bartender. 

You smiled shyly as they watched you walk up to the bar, finally returning to whatever they were doing before once you sat down. 

You sat on a stool that was a couple of seats away from the stranger, he didn’t seem to want any company or make any small talk. 

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked, approaching you. 

“Are you still serving food?” You asked hopefully. 

“Yep,” he nodded, reaching down and then handing you a menu. 

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” you said practically giddy. Quickly, you looked over the options and gave him your order.

As you waited for your food, your eyes wandered over to the man at the other end of the bar. He had dark brown hair and a thick beard, even with him sitting you could tell he was easily over 6’. He sat there quietly, eyes focused on the TV above as he drank his beer. There was something about his posture and intense gaze on the screen that made you feel as though he was avoiding turning his head to look at you. 

As you wondered why you almost jumped out of your seat when the bartender placed a plate in front of you.   
You grinned looking at the spread, before picking up your fork and digging in. 

Distracted by the food, you didn’t notice the man taking a quick glance in your direction. He’d never say anything out loud, but you were rather pretty and awfully sweet it seemed. 

He couldn’t help but overhear you tell the bartender all about your woes. You talked about your damn ex and his stuck up family and how you had no idea where the hell you were. 

Seems like your Thanksgiving was worse than his. 

Just as you were about halfway through a slice of pie, the group of boys by the pool table were starting to get rowdy. They were so drunk that they were practically spilling beer on each other and the floor and yelling about stupid bullshit. 

The man tsked, annoyed with their behavior, as you tried your best to ignore them and focused on finishing your pie. 

“Alright fellas,” the bartender started. “I’m cutting you all off for tonight.”

“C'mon old man,” one of the guys started, most likely the leader of the group. “We’re just having some fun.” 

It was obvious they were all looking for trouble, from the smirks on their faces to the way they were holding the pool cues. They slowly closed in on you and the bartender like prey.

“I ain’t gonna repeat myself,” my bartender stuttered. “Get out.”

“Why don’t you make us,“ the leader sneered looking down at the old bartender.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as they crowded around you. Clasping your hands on top of your lap, you looked down anxious over what might unfold. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as one of the boys gazed at you like a piece of meat. 

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in so close, that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. “That pie looks pretty sweet,” he purred before he swiped some whipped cream off your plate and licked his finger. 

You clenched your eyes shut, feeling sick to your stomach, as he then proceeded to touch your hair.

However it didn’t last long, the man at the end of the bar roughly yanked the boy away from you and practically threw him across the room, before addressing the group. 

“Listen you little fucks, unless you’d like me to drag each one of ya out by your hair, you better fuck off,” he snarled. 

Swallowing thickly, they scurried to exit, looking absolutely terrified. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves and opened your eyes, quickly wiping away a couple of tears. 

Turning around, you looked over to the stranger to thank him, but your mouth hung open for a moment as you noticed the burn scars on the side of his face. They were all over his cheek, forehead, and part of his jaw. 

Immediately, he turned away, taking his wallet from his back pocket and leaving some cash on the counter.

The bartender shook his head, grabbing the money and handing it back to the man, “Keep it, Sandor, it’s the least I can do.”

“It was nothing,” Sandor replied, heading towards the door. 

Quickly, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him, you couldn’t let him leave without thanking him properly. 

Gently you reached out grabbing his hand to stop him.   
“Thank you,” you said, giving his hand a light squeeze. 

He glanced down at you, keeping the scarred side of his turned away from you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You shook your head and smiled up at him, “I was really freaked out, I’m glad you intervened.”

Sandor flushed a little under your gaze, making you smile more. He really seemed like a sweet man underneath it all, maybe a little rough around the edges, but still sweet. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks had now spread to his ears. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took out his keys, giving you a nod before pushing the door open. Sandor paused letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw the condition of your car outside. 

“Those fucking cunts,” he muttered under his breath. They had smashed the windshields, busted the headlights, and slashed all the tires. 

“Girl,” he started, turning back around and looking at you. 

“Yes?”

He rubbed the back of his head, “looks like you won’t be getting anywhere tonight.”

“What?” You squeezed past Sandor to get a good look. Your eyes went wide over the state of your car. This fucking day had to have been the worst one in your entire life. Not being able to hold back any longer, you started to cry. 

Sandor stood there awkwardly, watching as sobbed into your hands. 

It was getting late now, almost midnight, the bar would be closing soon, and he already knew none of the local mechanics were open. 

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride,” he said, placing a large hand on the small of your back. “We’ll get this all figured out in the morning.”

You peeked up at him, lowering your hands slightly. “What?” You hiccuped.

“You can stay at a motel for the night,” he explained. Sandor wouldn’t blame you if you said no, figured you might be cautious accepting a ride from him, but the least he could do was offer. He wasn’t sure what other options you had. 

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you nodded, “Alright, thank you.”

“My trucks this way,” he said, guiding you towards it with his hand still on your back. 

“Oh,” you perked up. “I need to grab my bag.”

You grimaced looking at the state of your car up close. Those jerks, hopefully, your insurance would cover the damage. 

Popping open the trunk, your face fell when you found it empty. In your rush to leave that dreadful house, you must have left your luggage with your ex and his horrible family. 

“Fuck,” you huffed, startling Sandor.

He watched in amusement as you stomped around yelling, cursing up a storm, and waving your arms around. You even kicked your car a few times. 

Finally, getting it all out of your system, your attention turned to him. “Could we please stop at a convenience store or something on the way,” you said in a defeated voice. 

“Get in the truck,” he nodded, opening the passenger side door. 

The drive was a quiet one, giving you a chance to admire the small town’s charm. Besides the assholes from the bar, it seemed like a decent place. You were fortunate that Sandor was around to help you, who knows how this night may have unfolded without him. 

“Sandor,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “Why aren’t you with your family for Thanksgiving?”

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead as he answered you dryly. “Don’t really have one. I’ve got a brother but I’d rather eat shit than spend a minute with him.”

“I see,” you muttered. “I’m not close to mine either.” 

He pulled up in front of a small store, the sign indicating it was 24 hours.

You were pleasantly surprised that Sandor joined you inside to shop, he followed behind you as you browsed, his hands tucked into his pockets as shuffled along. You told him that he could’ve waited in the truck, but he shook his head, muttering that it was fine. 

It didn't take long, you only needed a few things to get you through until tomorrow, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant. 

You placed the shopping basket on the counter, the cashier gave you a polite smile, but it faded when she noticed Sandor standing beside you. She intentionally avoided making any eye contact with him. 

Before you could get your wallet out from your purse, Sandor had already handed the cashier some cash. Before you could protest, he grabbed the plastic bags and headed for the exit.

“I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to do that,” you said, once both of you were back in the truck. 

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had a rough day,” Sandor interjected. 

As he drove, you took a moment to admire him like you had done back at the bar. He was an intense person to be around, but what caught you off guard the most was his thoughtful and considerate behavior. 

Arriving at the motel, Sandor sighed, “I know it doesn’t look like the nicest place, but the staff are decent people.”

You smiled, “Thank you again, tonight probably would’ve been a lot worse without you.”

As you were climbing out of the truck, Sandor stopped you. 

“Here,” he grabbed something from the back and thrust it at you. “You can wear that instead of having to sleep in your dress.”

You looked at the flannel shirt in your hands, your eyes crinkling as you grinned, “Good night, Sandor.”

He nodded, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

He watched from the truck as you went into the lobby, wanting to be sure everything was alright before putting the truck in reverse and leaving.


End file.
